


Not Going Anywhere

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Monroe, Episode: s01e21 Big Feet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Big Feet."<br/>Everyone that Monroe cares about ends up dead and he cares about Nick far too much to let that happen to him, too.<br/>But Nick isn't going anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Going Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Grimm.

            I sat at my desk just staring at my phone. It’s been an hour and a half since I texted Monroe. Ninety minutes. Five thousand four hundred seconds. No answer. It never takes him this long to answer unless he’s working on a clock, which I knew he wasn’t. He said he was taking a little hiatus to clear his head after what happened to Larry – his friend the wildermann. I didn’t blame him; losing people you care about isn’t easy. But that was three weeks ago. The first week I brought him dinner – vegetable stir fry from his favorite place – and wine. The second week I called, letting him know I was here if he needed me. This week I started to get really worried. I hadn’t talked to him since Monday – four days ago. Since then I had sent 67 texts and called 16 times. He answered only one text telling me he was fine and to please not stop by. I didn’t push it any further. Everyone copes differently.

            I sighed and slid my phone to the side, trying not to dwell. I tried my damnedest to focus on finishing my report. I just had to get out of this damn station and go see him; I had to know he was ok. I hadn’t realized what an integral part he played in my life. My mind started to wander. Was he was mad at me for being nosy? Did he leave town? Did the reapers get to him again? Was he hurt? Was he dead? Oh god!

            “Dude, you ok?”

            “Huh? What?”

            “You totally zoned out. You looked panicky. You good?”

            “Yeah. Fine. Great.” I quickly jotted a few things down in the report. “Just gotta get out of here. I’ll see you Monday.” I sprinted to Renard’s office and practically threw the report at him.

            “Burkhardt!”

            “Sorry, sir, I just…I gotta go. Emergency.”

            “Are you ok? Do you need a unit or something?”

            “No, I’m fine. See you Monday.”

            I ran out of the station and jumped in my car. I broke about eight traffic laws getting to Monroe’s house. I didn’t bother texting or calling – he hadn’t answered any of the previous ones. _Please just let him be ok. I need him._ His car was there and the door was locked. I shuffled through my keys, looking for the one he gave me. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the keys twice. As I went to put the key in the lock, the door opened.

            Monroe stood on the other side of the threshold, clad in a worn t-shirt and pajama pants, barefoot. His hair was damp and there were a few pieces plastered to his forehead. He looked tired, worn out, and a bit like he’d been crying. He looked sad. There were dark circles around his eyes and he just didn’t look like Monroe. He looked like the shell of my best friend, like his body was there but _he_ wasn’t. I hadn’t realized that Larry’s death had hit him so hard – some friend I am. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and hug him tight, not letting go until he pushed me away.

            “M-Monroe…”

            He stepped away from the door and walked into the living room. I walked in and shut the door behind me. I kicked off my boots and hung up my jacket – he had me trained well. I followed him into the living room and sat down on the sofa next to him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me. _Just talk to me, please._

            “Monroe, what’s going on? I’m worried about you.” I hesitantly reached out and touched his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t freak out and rip off my arm.

            I could see his lip quiver. He turned away – I knew he was crying.

            “Just go away, Nick.”

            “No. You’re my _best_ friend. I’m worried about you. Talk to me. Please, Monroe.”

            He turned to me, jaw clenched, eyes bloodshot. “You should really go.”

            “Monroe.” I slid closer to him. “What did I do?”

            He jumped up from the sofa and paced the floor. “You came into my life. You became my friend, made me care about you. That’s what you did.”

            “Am I missing something?”

            “Do you know what happens to people I care about? They die! Rolf, Hap, Larry. I don’t want you to end up like them, Nick. I care about you too much.” His eyes were changing back and forth between brown and red, I could see he was struggling to keep control. “So please, just go.”

            “No.” I shook my head, stood up, and walked over to him. “You’re not getting rid of that easy.” I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in to the tightest hug I could manage; he leaned his head down on my shoulder. He finally wrapped him arms around me and hugged me back. I could hear him crying. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it was a while.

            “Why?” He whispered without pulling away. “Why do you want to stay?”

            “You really have to ask?”

            He pulled back but didn’t unwrap his arms from around me. His cheeks were wet, tears still falling. I cupped his face with both my hands, using my thumbs to wipe away the tears.

            “Nick…” His voice was low, husky.

            “I’m not leaving you. Ever. I’m sorry about Rolf and Hap and Larry. They didn’t deserve to die. And it wasn’t you fault they did. You’re a good friend, Monroe – the best.” I bit my lip, trying to find the right words, but failing miserably. “Let me be here. Let me in.”

            Monroe pulled away, reclaiming his hands. He rubbed the back of his neck before walking out of the room. I froze for a minute, not knowing if I should follow or just leave. He was twisting the cap off one of his fancy beers when I walked into the kitchen. I stood there, staring at him, arms folded across my chest.

            “I _want_ to be here for you, but I can’t if you’re just going to push me away. I know how hard it is to lose everyone around you, trust me.”

            “Nick…”

            “I spent the week – the last three, really – worrying about you, thinking about you non-stop. Was it a waste?”

            He set down his beer and took a few steps towards me. He didn’t say anything, just stood there. Before I knew it our lips were pressed together and we were stumbling down the hall. We more or less fell onto the bed, hands tugging at clothes. His shirt hit the floor first; I ran my hands over his chest. Pilates had done him well. I let him pull off my shirt; his hands and lips roamed my bare skin. I arched my back, pushing my hips up against his; he pushed me back down on the bed, grinding his hips into mine. I hooked one of my legs around him and pulled him closer.

            All I wanted was to be as close to Monroe as I could get – physically, emotionally. I wanted to show him that I was here for the long haul, that nothing was gonna take me away from him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let him go.

            I pushed at him, rolling us over so I was straddling his hips. I leaned down and nuzzled my cheek against his beard; something so simple, but for some reason so intimate. His hands were light on my skin, gentle. He ran his hands down my chest, stomach, settling at the waist of my jeans. I wiggled out of my pants and pressed my body back against his. Eventually his pajama pants and my boxers joined the rest of our clothes on the floor.

            It was slow and gentle, a little needy, and a lot desperate. Mouths and hands covered as much skin as they could. It was about being close and being together. My hands were on either side of his shoulders, my head dipped down so our lips could touch, tongues could dance. His hands brushed up my sides, sending a shiver down my spine. I rocked into him, slow and steady. Hushed moans filled the room.

            We laid together the rest of the night, tangled in each other’s arms. Neither of us said anything, just enjoyed the quiet, the closeness. We spent the night stealing kisses, caressing skin. It was just after two in the morning when I felt a heaviness on my chest. I opened my eyes, just enough to make out shapes in the dark. His body was curled against mine, his head on my chest. It made me smile a sad sort of smile. I ran my fingers through his hair before resting my arm across his shoulders.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered and closed my eyes, letting myself drift back off into sleep.


End file.
